the rain splatters in between
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: Alone, Asami does his own form of 'hanami'…


**fandom - Viewfinder**  
 **title - the rain splatters in between.**  
 **pairing - Asami + Takaba**  
 **rating - pg**  
 **description – Alone, Asami does his own form of 'hanami'…**

 **Disclaimer – Viewfinder isn't mine.**

 **the rain splatters in between.  
By miyamoto yui**

There are only a few things you can see when you're walking through hell. In a field of sakura, as you meander through the familiar tree-lined lane, the petals fall as they wish. They fall, knowing that the first time they bloomed, their time was limited to a little more than a week. Ten days. That is how long a sakura lasts.  
Whether or not you see a pink one or a pale one that looks as if it hasn't soaked enough color or has been denied to be painted as such by Nature, there you stand in such gorgeousness with all the people walking past you. They bump into you.  
When you talk on your celphone in different languages, the same people from the place of your birth will shun you. You are no longer Japanese. You are a foreigner by your own tongue.

But wasn't I hidden with this face? With the sea of dark suits?  
Even the clothes must be in season. How pointless yet so important to 'tradition' we must be.

The tradition is to pray to the water god who sits at one end of the pond and to stop partying, lest you bother the neighbors, after 10pm. You cannot eat in public, but you are allowed to drink for your health.

The inconsistency rises like oil over water on a pan whose flame becomes deep enough to melt through the iron cast.

So, I avoid these troublesome crowds.  
I continue to stand in silence as the darkness takes over the pond and the rest of this netherworld. The world where the sakura bloom is a world where it follows its natural course, but after a few moments, it moves beyond it. It is extraordinary. Even I am overwhelmed with a face that's been taught to not react to emotional sentiments.

For, it is a sign of vulnerability.  
No one is allowed to see me weak.  
Not even the pond.

Not even a reflection of myself.

I stop walking. I finally understand that there is no moon to guide me. Why am I here when I should be in a room doing negotiations for whatever is scheduled into my planner? (With the backup of the most important dates on my celphone?)

My life is in this plastic machine.

It may sound stupid, but I took some pictures. He is in all of them, though he will find them an insult to his so-called art with that contraption that only perceives the perspectives of his so-called 'truth'. All are fact. All are false.  
Like his camera, he is intriguing. I wonder why he is born in the same city as me but does not have to fall under the same rules.

Flipping up the phone as I take one last drag of my cigarette, I look into the face that has mesmerized me with its stupidity to follow someone like me. With all the confidence I exude and his pursuit of truth, all the impurities are hidden within the borders of his photographs.

I drop the cigarette and bury it into the mud, leaving no traces of even its smoke.  
Harshly, I say to the wind, "Even you cannot capture me as you would like me to be."

Maybe it is because I confuse you. But you have to understand, I am a man of the last century.  
I don't live in this time. If I betray any of my vulnerable traits, I hand them over with a sword to cut off my neck.

But you continue to pursue me. You think it's interesting.  
It seems like a game to you, but to me, this is the life I have been given to live. It is the responsibility that has been passed down to me.  
Whatever blood was washed into my hands isn't only mine to carry. It's everyone else's behind me. I will never be clean.

I know this too well.

The rain starts to fall in mismatched drops and I start to walk slowly towards my car. My eyes see the rain, but my skin doesn't feel it, even if it's soaking through my suit.

Splosh, splosh, splish.  
But I immediately stop as I hear your sloppy footsteps behind me. I lift up my head and sigh. "Why are you here?"  
I don't turn around. I'm greatly irked.

Peace is fed up with me, isn't she?

Plip, plop,plip.  
More sakura petals are forced into the pond to feed its greediness. I almost feel sorry for the fact that even petals aren't left alone when the rain comes to push them down. The water wants to swallow them because they are too pretty not to touch.

"I did exactly as you asked. I left you alone." I begin to chuckle. "You really have no pride, Boy. Have I sucked it all out of you?"  
I smirk again.

I have talked to myself so much in my head, I sometimes forget the sound of my own voice. It is more forceful and cold. Meticulous and callous, there is no room to breathe but for the tone of maliciousness.

At this, there is no sound from the ground or from his mouth. How unusual. Even with a protest, he always has something to say.

I start to walk away. I don't have time for these stupid human games.

Honestly, I think what kills people isn't love. It's pride. The pride to not ever accept that you aren't impenetrable to pain or showing emotions.  
But when you cannot do such things, they come out through your body. Somewhere beneath all the lies, truth will surface…

…even if it pushes out into a blood-filled scar.

Sharply, he questions, "Why did you go to the hospital?"

"Why shouldn't I go to the hospital?" I quickly counter.

"I may not know a lot about you, Asami, but what I do know is your body. That is the one thing I know everything about." He takes a step forward as if he is confident of this, but his voice is shaking. "And there, that is the one place you cannot erase me."

My grin shows through my voice. "You don't sound so sure."

I stop.  
I turn around and lift my chin up. And then my eyes gaze directly at him.

Is this what you want to see? Do you want me to kill myself right in front of you after you've taken everything else from me?

I hate you, Boy.

Even at this age, five years since we've first met, how can you still bite your lip and shake your head at me. Unable to cry, your eyes show they're about to.  
You aren't afraid to be alone.

You are afraid of what will happen to me.

And you should be. When had I ever imagined life without you?

Yet, because of this pride, I am unable to speak. I cannot let go of myself, not even to you. Even when my body and my mind and my deadened heart all turn against one another, I won't. I already lost my soul, so what is there left?

Nothing but this arrogance and this pride.

"That's right, Takaba." I start to walk away again. "But you weren't meant to be erased."

In the silence between my heart and my mind, the rain splatters in between. His voice pierces somewhere through the quiet chaos.

"Erase me then..." His voice gets louder and louder as he competes with the power of the rain. "Give me back what I have lost. Why did you fill me with nothing but yourself?! You're always so selfish to walk away when it's convenient for you and I am not allowed to do anything but follow you?  
"You hated it whenever I questioned you, but you were enticed by it too! And now that I've finally made a decision, you are doing more things I don't understand?!"

"Let make this clear, _Takaba_. That wasn't a decision for you to make." I calmly turn around to glare at him. "I had respected you as an opponent against my strength, but you disappointed me. You turned out to be incredibly weak."

It is then that I finally walk off as he stands there quietly, immobile and distraught.

When I finally go into my car, I slump onto the seat and grab my stomach. I laugh at the rainwater mixing with the blood draining away.

As I look at the rearview mirror, he is running after me, screaming. But it is washed away with the sound of the rain.

I had caught a glimpse of the moment that he saw where I had stood.

At the most dire of times, you find the climax of beauty. You shiver in ecstasy of knowing something that is so shameful yet you are unable to see if you can live through it. It's so ironic that death can be close to what gives you life.  
And the reverse becomes just as true when you walk through that mirrored reality.

Until the end, even if my own body rebels against me and I have reached my mental limits, I won't show you that I have had to live through my worst fear when you whispered those words, "Goodbye".

I felt that I had been made fun of by Fate. That I was imprisoned the more I lived on.  
That my one light had been extinguished of its own accord.

By own hands.  
Because I strangled him in what I thought he was and what he turned out to truly be. And yet, isn't it, like business ventures, you are supposed to look at the potential to become greater than what the project really is? Yet, not everyone is so keen to want to be 'better'. Some like those limits and living on those edges, thinking they got this far and it is enough.

Because of these thoughts, we were too far apart when I thought we were equal.

I am not such a person to settle with such an idea. He knew that.  
And yet, did we do this to protect one another? Humans are so ridiculous that way. Logic and more logic and then when it is important, you must use the opposite of it.

Truly dim-witted.

Yet, on this side where it's the 'opposite of logic', I had a small hope. Why, I asked, this one thing, unrelated to everything else in my life, couldn't be mine?

I took up the phone with my crimson-covered fingers and listened to your last message.  
"Take care of yourself," you had said.

But when had I ever been able to do that, I wonder?

I scrolled down to another menu and began to smile despite myself. I read silently,  
"If I could give you  
what I thought I was incapable of,  
When did our tears  
emerge from  
Happiness into silence?

If I give you what is mine,  
Why is it so hard to keep it from myself?

As I wander alone upon this crazy earth  
between pride and compassion,  
My feet bleed as I bruise my own mouth.

If we kill ourselves to  
Save others,  
What is sacrifice  
But a mere shell of sincerity?

I have wanted to ask you why did you  
Love me when you knew that I'd  
Eventually get bored  
if you looked away  
when you knew I'd feared  
You leaving me?

You let go of my hand and  
I kept on going, doing anything,  
Praying for you,  
Leaving a place for you  
By my side.

Then, before I knew it,  
I could no longer find you.

Only remnants remain and I carry a one-sided love,  
Once more.

I pretend to not need anyone.  
I know how well I hide it with  
My face.

But it breaks apart,  
Chipping away  
when I see that you no longer need  
Someone  
Like me.

Again, rewrapping the bandages,  
I wander on,  
going from place to place,  
wondering how to torture myself  
For the sake  
Of my ideal 'love'.

Why do I keep on fighting  
for something  
I knew was beyond human comprehension?"

These emails were stored on my phone eight days ago, close to the time of your last voice message.

I laugh sarcastically at myself when I press 'sent'.

It is then that I can't distinguish between the rain, the frantic voice of my driver, and the blurriness of my eyes…

I finally let go of my phone.

 **Owari.**

4/5/2007 11:40:07 AM – LA  
4/6/07 3:40 AM - Tokyo


End file.
